


closing night

by flibbityflob



Series: Dorogrid Week [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Light Bondage, Modern AU, NB Ingrid, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, bottom!ingrid, oops! it turned into porn, so much praise kink also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbityflob/pseuds/flibbityflob
Summary: ingrid would like to think herself the best partner the star of their university’s theatre department. they keep themselves out of drama, even if their room-mate’s drama is more interesting than their own, and when dorothea asks for something, they’re more than happy to provide. especially if her request is to treat their girlfriend with the love she deserves.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Dorogrid Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761280
Kudos: 29





	closing night

**Author's Note:**

> day 2 - modern au!
> 
> i didn't intend for this to just turn into a smut fic, but it did, so. also whilst i'm a firm believer in classical opera singer dorothea, i did not want to deal with the brain worms of classical conservatory au garreg mach. also ingrid is doing a degree in medieval literature but she's gonna get a law conversion degree after becuase lawyer ingrid is my jam

Ingrid’s phone started buzzing the moment it reconnected to their apartment’s wifi. Professor Byleth had emailed them, probably about the corrections they’d made to Ingrid’s thesis. They’d read that later, they wasn’t quite ready to accept the fact their thesis was almost finished. How they’d make use of a degree in Medieval Literature in the ‘real world,’ as their father was so fond of calling it, was still a mystery to them, and graduation crept closer with every day. Sylvain had blown up the group chat with… something, they weren’t sure and frankly didn’t want to look. When the notifications had hit over a hundred, it was yelling at him for something. Whilst they liked to think they were group’s expert in yelling at Sylvain, they were still in a particularly good mood from their run, and it wasn’t even 7am yet, they could put off their disappointment for a while longer. They jogged up the stairs to their apartment, briefly distracted from the allure of their phone by their burning desire for coffee, and was not in the least bit shocked to see the lights already on when they opened the door. Edelgard was a good room-mate in almost every way, and one of the best traits of hers was she was as much of a morning person as Ingrid was. They thanked every god she could name for the fact Dimitri’s step-sister wasn’t an absolute monster to live with.

“Morning.” Ingrid said, dropping their keys into the bowl they kept on the table. The pair of them made a genuine effort to keep the table clean, but at some point in the last three days, Edelgard’s books had piled up on the table. Ingrid hadn’t noticed when they’d come home from Dorothea’s, it was almost pitch black outdoors and they’d made a beeline for their bed anyway. Marx, Engels, and an assortment of pamphlets she’d collected over the years. 

“Good morning, Ingrid. Did you have a pleasant weekend with Dorothea? I didn’t hear you come in last night.” Edelgard said, halfway through a yawn, glasses resting slightly askew on her nose.  
  
“I did, yeah. She was pretty distracted with all the play stuff, so we mostly just did work together, but it was nice. And I tried to be quiet, I came in pretty late.”  
  
“I’m glad to hear it. Did Dorothea give you that book I lent her?”

“Oh, yeah, the Adorno? It’s in my bag, I’ll get it for you once I’ve had my coffee. Have you had any yet or do you want me to make you one?”

“I haven’t yet, no. It’d be much appreciated.”  
  
“No worries.” They said, wandering over towards their coffee maker, working more on autopilot than intent as they poured enough coffee for the two of them in it. By the time it was done, they’d changed into clothes that weren’t their running clothes, and Edelgard had abandoned pyjamas for something more appropriate for the day. Ingrid poured up their mugs, and Edelgard took hers with a grateful smile.

“Dorothea has me signed up to go to her show tonight, so. I’ll be missing dinner.”  
  
“At least it’s my day to cook. I can leave some leftovers for you in the fridge for when you get back, if you’d like.”  
  
“I think I’ve been roped into whatever comes after. It’s closing night, and apparently as the leading lady’s girlfriend, I have to come with her.”

“Did Dorothea give you that information herself, or was it Annette being… Annette.”  
  
“Both, actually. And you should call Annette, I think she’s into you. And, like, you two have a project together, Dorothea’s been relaying all of Annette’s stress to me.”  
  
“Ah. Yes.” Edelgard says, blushing a particularly distinct shade of red. Ingrid raised their eyebrow and tried to avoid eye contact with their room-mate. “I am. uh. Aware of her feelings towards me.” 

“For the sake of us both I’m not going to ask. But Annette will tell the entire drama society. I promise if Dot tells me anything I won’t tell anyone, but. Yeah.”  
  
“I’m aware.” 

“Ah. Well. Uh. I’m going to class, I have a date with Dot before my 9am starts. I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
  
“Indeed. Have a good day, Ingrid.”

“You too, Edie.”

III

Ingrid locked their bike to what seemed like the only empty rack on campus, already pressingly aware of how late they were to meet Dorothea for breakfast before they both were forced apart by their 9ams. Ingrid knew Dot wouldn’t get mad at them for being late, but they still cursed the endless red lights that had stopped them at what had seemed like every junction. At least they didn’t drive like Dimitri did, or didn’t take the bus as Sylvain seemed intent on doing every morning. Being able to dodge through traffic was something of a blessing. As they jogged over towards their usual breakfast spot they tried (and failed) to extract their phone from the inside pocket of their cycling jacket, similarly trying (and succeeding) to avoid half of the university’s population. It was a miserable, wet day, and it was a blessed relief to almost crash into the door of their shared favourite little cafe. What improved their day ever more, however, was seeing Dorothea’s bright red jacket, and her even brighter smile. 

“God-” They puffed, dripping slightly as they half jogged across the cafe, waving slightly at Annette, who was on duty that morning wearing a suspiciously un-Annette-like turtle-neck. “I’m so sorry Dot, traffic was abysmal.”  
  
“Shush, shush. I saw you cycling out the window, you really were going at a terrifying pace.” Dorothea said, pulling Ingrid for a kiss that lasted a half second too long to be called chaste. 

“I know, but I’m really sorry. I know you’re busy and stressed and I wanted to try and see you before tonight.”  
  
“And here you are, my love. Handsome and absolutely soaking wet.” She giggled, sitting back down and pushing Ingrid’s favourite pastry towards them. Ingrid gleefully took it, devouring half of it in a single bite.

“Have I told you today that you’re beautiful. Because you are.”

“You texted me something incoherent this morning, which I’ll assume was sent before your run, and which I’ll assume was a compliment.”  


Ingrid blushed red to their ears, and reached into their discarded cycling jacket for their phone to see what they’d sent to Dorothea in the twenty minutes before they reached coherent thought that morning. Dorothea laughed, affection and adoration clear despite how gentle the noise was.

“Ingrid, sweetheart, it’s okay. It was very sweet. You’re very sweet.”

“I. God, I’m sorry.”  
  
“How late were you up last night once you got back?”  
  
“An hour, maybe two. I had a brainwave about my thesis whilst I was cycling home and needed to get it down before I forgot it.”  
  
“Ingrid, darling.”  
  
“I know, I know. After tonight, I promise. How’s everything going with your script?”  
  
“Long hours. Just long in general. It’s getting there, but…” She shrugged, smiling softly. “It’s getting there. It’ll be there before the deadline.”  
  
“That’s all it really needs to be. It’ll be amazing, I’m sure. Everything you do is amazing.”  
  
They settled into a comfortable, easy silence. Ingrid had realised, in the year and a half they’d been together, that Dorothea’s presence itself was such a calm comfort to them that they didn’t notice the silences. Not really, not like they’d noticed with their (admittedly terrible) boyfriends in school. Dorothea comforted them in ways they didn’t even realise they’d needed, in ways they didn’t realise they’d lacked. The day Ingrid had called her over, half in tears and half in joy, a result of the absolute hack job they’d done in chopping off their hair, Dorothea had come. Dorothea had fixed their hair up, kissed them, and held them tight as they fell into bed together.  
  


Ingrid’s alarm broke the comfortable silence between them, and they almost jumped out of their seat in a state of slightly exhausted panic, before realising Annette would probably kill them for that. 

“Shit, sorry. I have class in like, ten minutes.”  
  
“And I have one with Manuela at the same time.” Dorothea said, gathering her belongings together and managing to look utterly graceful as she did so. 

Ingrid was highly aware of the fact that their slightly rushed attempt to pull their jacket back over probably made them look more like an overgrown colt than a person in their 20s. It was a miracle Dot liked them in moments like these. But, at the end of the day, she did. Dot loved them, and they loved Dot back. As they left the cafe, the rain still falling like mad on the pavement, Dorothea took their hand. Ingrid squeezed her hand, and they began their slow, lazy walk towards their lectures for the morning. The shop was close to campus, and through months of trial and error they’d found a walking pace that got them the most amount of time together without resulting in either of them being late for class. The morning was comfortable, despite the rain and the cold, and personally they thought that the cool air turned Dorothea’s cheeks the most pretty shade of red. 

“I’m really sorry, darling, I won’t be able to meet you for lunch today. I’m not sure why, but they want us to go rehearse over lunch. You’d think, given we’ve performed for the last three days without any issue, they wouldn’t be too worried.”  
  
“It’s okay, Dot. Just think of it being you getting ready to perform your best for me.” Ingrid said, before blushing a particularly bright shade of red as their own words sunk in. 

“Are you implying I wouldn’t be doing that already! Why, my Ingrid! Are you trying to upset me before my big show! It’s closing night, goodness knows who’ll be there.”  
  
“I- I- You know what I meant, Dot! I think you’re going to be wonderful, and I can’t wait to see you perform, okay?”  
  
“Darling, darling.” Dorothea said, pulling Ingrid towards her as they backed into a side alley. “I know what you mean, and I adore you. You are the most adorable woman I’ve ever met.”  
  
“You’re a bully, I swear!” Ingrid laughed, pushing Dorothea’s shoulder with their own and pulling her into a soft kiss. 

“Maybe I am, but you love that about me.”  
  
“I do. Now, come on, I may love you like nothing else but I’m going to be late, and Sylvain will never let me live it down if I am.”  
  
“Fine, fine.” Dorothea said, pulling them in for one more kiss before marching off once more, Ingrid’s hand in her own.

III

Ingrid was never once smug about their ability to prove themself right when it came to matters around Dorothea’s brilliance, but they were right. Dorothea could have come onstage in jeans and the paint splattered t-shirt she’d stolen from Ingrid, and she probably would have been the most captivating presence onstage. But in costume, and makeup, and with the spotlight pointed on her, she was a miracle. Ingrid adored her, well and truly, and was completely and utterly entranced with her. Perhaps it was bias, they wouldn’t deny that, but in their eyes Dorothea truly was the most talented person on that stage. She’d be that on any stage in the world, truly. By the time the curtain fell, they had to try and resist bolting to their feet, clapping as hard as they could. For all of Dorothea’s teasing, they were able to restrain themself from being too excessively gay and utterly pathetic. They waited until at least two other people were standing to follow suit, and if they were clapping louder than anyone, then so be it. 

One thing about dating a performer in the university's theatre club that they hadn’t realised was that they’d get well acquainted with all the other significant others of the regular performers. They’d spent hours together, standing and holding flowers, waiting for their loved ones. There was Hubert, Ferdinand’s boyfriend, who never seemed to enjoy being there until Ferdinand actually came out of the dressing room. Lorenz’s boyfriend Claude was a familiar face, he’d been in one of their ancient history classes but they’d never talked to him until they’d waited in the corridor together. What was a shock, though, was seeing Edelgard waiting, holding flowers too. Their eyes met, and they came to an unspoken agreement not to mention this until much later. Edelgard had given them the same courtesy when Dorothea was sitting around in Ingrid’s dressing gown waiting for Ingrid to make tea and breakfast. Unspoken rules made their lives bearable. 

The noise of cheerful, singing actors was the sign Ingrid needed to grab the flowers they’d bought, ready to hand them over to their girlfriend. It was something they’d grown very used to, in the variety of productions Dorothea had performed in, and they liked it. The cast was always in high spirits after a show, and Dot was in her element on the evenings of a closing night. When she burst into the room, chatting animatedly with Annette and Ferdinand, Ingrid fell in love all over again. She was perhaps the most brilliant woman Ingrid had ever laid their eyes upon, and it was wonderful. When she made eye contact with Ingrid, somehow her bright, brilliant eyes grew even more gleeful. 

“Ingrid!” She grinned, barrelling towards her girlfriend, looking gleefully at them.  
  
“Dot, you were absolutely incredible!” They said, and pulled Dorothea in for a deep kiss, both of them beaming into it. “I brought you flowers, you were just. You were amazing.”  
  
“You’re too sweet, darling, really.” Dorothea said, but took the flowers Ingrid offered with a bright smile and another gentle kiss. “Oh, they’re so pretty, thank you, darling.”

“Your favourites.” They said, and stared softly into Dorothea’s eyes, just drinking her in in all her glory. 

“You’re a softie, my love. I love you. Now, we can either go to the after-party, and we can watch Edie get very drunk and try and impress Annette, or we can go home, and enjoy an evening to ourselves. Hubert’s going to Ferdie’s tonight.”

Ingrid pulled Dorothea in for a gentle kiss, and felt Dorothea’s hands drift along the back of their suit jacket, affectionate and loving, and yet charged with everything she’d been denying herself during the shows. For the fortnight the society was performing, Dorothea was so stressed and busy that she barely had time for actual dates, let alone sex. Not that Ingrid minded, really, because the Dorothea that emerged from performances was riding high on glee, exhaustion, and barely concealed lust.  


Ingrid had never once been their driver, mostly because they didn’t actually have a driver’s licence, but partly because they had none of Dorothea’s self restraint. Dorothea was there, and alive, and they wanted her so badly it hurt. If Ingrid had had a say in this, they’d already be underneath their girlfriend in the back of her car. But Dorothea had more resistance than they did, or at least could control her overwhelming lust. It was an excruciating drive all the same, especially since Ingrid had tried to take their tie off before they’d started the drive, before Dot had stopped them. It was a fifteen minute drive on a bad day, yet it felt like an absolute eternity to Ingrid, who had an absolutely tantalising view of Dorothea’s chest, and all that entailed. By the time they pulled up outside the apartment Dorothea and Hubert shared, all they wanted was to finally be able to touch their girlfriend, the most beautiful woman in the world. 

When they finally made it through the door, Ingrid almost whined with pleasure at the feeling of Dorothea’s hands drifting their way under their shirt. They were combusting, and just desperately needed more, and they couldn’t move for Dorothea pushing them against the door, leaving kisses and hickies on their neck, and it was blissful torture.

“Do you know how hard it was, my Ingrid, to see you sitting there in that suit, knowing that I was on stage and couldn’t come out and fuck you the moment I saw you?”  
  
“I- fuck, Dot. Fuck. You’re so beautiful, did you know that?”  
  
“Mm. You do tell me I am so very often. But I’ll need you to be quiet, because you’re going to need some kind of punishment and I’m in good enough spirits to not tie you to the bed and edge you for the next hour, maybe two.”  
  
“I- Okay, love.”  
  
“Uh uh, my love. Silence.”  
  
Ingrid nodded, quick and enthusiastic and utterly pliant under their girlfriend’s words. Dorothea grinned wide at that, pecking them on the lips and grabbing their tie, beaming even wider at how pliant Ingrid was under her hands. Ingrid adored her. They adored her even as Dorothea shut the bedroom door behind them, undoing their tie with a glint of joy in her eyes. 

“Now, I know I said I wouldn’t tie you up, but look at you, love. You’re so beautiful like this, pathetic and desperate. Would you mind, love? I think you’d look so beautiful, and tonight is for me, you know?”  
  
It would be generous to say Ingrid was coherent, in all honesty. Their brain was closer to mush than any kind of function, and it was all their damn girlfriend’s fault, there in all her glory. But instead of doing what the logical part of their brain wanted, pushing her down onto their mattress and fucking her gently, they just nodded, desperate and wanting, and Dorothea began to undo their shirt, nipping at the newly revealed skin. Dorothea’s mouth was warm and wet, and Ingrid started to undo the buttons keeping Dorothea’s blouse on, hardly daring to start undoing her bra. 

“I- I want what you want, Dot. Please.”  
  
“I know you do, my darling. You’re so good for me, so handsome. Do you want to keep your binder on tonight, sweetheart?”

“Y- yeah, I do. Fuck, Dot, please, touch me.”  
  
“Hmm. I’ll think about it, but you do so need to learn patience. I’ve been patient all evening, you should learn the same.” She stepped away, then, and Ingrid stood there, looking with lust and awe at their girlfriend, feeling utterly exposed despite being almost entirely clothed. 

“I think we’ll start with you taking your shirt off, my dear. I want you to stand there and just learn a little patience. Once your shirt is off, you’ll help me get naked. Do you think you can manage that without touching me as you shouldn’t be.”

“Y- yes, Dorothea.” They said, and did as told, shedding their shirt and tie with a frightening urgency, desperate to please their girlfriend.

“You’re such a good boy, did you know that? But to be a very good boy, you’ll have to stay silent for me. Will you nod for me, sweetheart?” 

Ingrid nodded, their short blonde hair sticking up slightly, and their bright green eyes shining with lust and want, and Dorothea ruffled their hair, before gripping it between her fingers and pulling on it softly.  
  
“Now then, my sweet, take my shirt off. Don’t dally, I need you to be my good boy, and I need you to listen to me.” Ingrid nodded, their fingers undoing the buttons of Dorothea’s blouse, desperately avoiding Dorothea’s skin as they did so, before tugging it off.  
  
“Good boy,” she cooed, and Ingrid felt their stomach lurch with desire, “now, my darling, you’re going to undo my bra, and then you’re going to take my skirt off. I know you want to kiss me, sweetheart, but I need you to not do that.”

Once again, Ingrid nodded, and moved behind Dorothea, undoing her bra and dropping it gracelessly on the floor, before moving down to the buttons of her skirt. 

“Oh, darling, now I think about it. Get on your knees, will you?”  
  
Ingrid nodded, doing just as asked, collapsing to their knees in front of Dorothea, and looking up at her, lust in their eyes. Dorothea stroked their cheek, and leaned down to kiss the top of their head, before straightening back up, giving Ingrid a full show of herself, and oh, Ingrid realised, she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“I knew you’d be insatiable, darling, but I’m shocked you didn’t notice before. I wanted to give you a little treat, for being such a good boy. Go on, if you want. Or do you need me to sit on the bed. You can speak right now, just to tell me what you want. I don’t want my most darling boy to hurt himself, you know?”

Their voice was barely audible, scratching against their throat, but they spoke all the same, “I think- sit. Please, my love.”

“Of course, of course, my sweet boy. You’ll have to do me a favour, though, and take my skirt off for me. With your mouth, I think. No hands, not yet.”

Ingrid nodded their head, and moved their mouth to the waistline of Dorothea’s skirt. They were experienced in undoing this type of skirt through mouth alone, not that it was a skill they were likely to use as a party trick. It was useful, though, for dragging a skirt down her legs and putting her head between their girlfriend’s beautiful, perfect thighs, dragging their tongue along her pussy, teeth grazing across her clit.

For an actor, a singer, and for as loud as Dorothea was as a person, she was often quiet and soft in bed, and it was Ingrid’s most beloved task to rip sounds from her throat. They pressed soft kisses to Dorothea’s thighs, and licked again, slow and soft and Dorothea keened into their face. One of her hands tangled itself into their hair, pulling Ingrid in, and oh, Ingrid could die there, Dorothea’s pussy was warm and wet and tasted so very good. Kneeling on their knees, worshipping this woman and dragging soft noises of pleasure from her throat, that was a kind of pleasure that they could write symphonies about.

Dorothea pulled on their hair, then, hard and fast, and Ingrid grazed their teeth against her clit once more, then moved to suck on it, finding the rhythm that made Dorothea whimper softly from above her. Dorothea was right, she was beyond horny and she was close even with almost no work from Ingrid, and being able to serve her lover in that way was more erotic to Ingrid than they knew. 

Dorothea came, then, hard and fast, and Ingrid kept licking, sucking on Dorothea’s clit, and Dorothea collapsed backwards onto the bed, tugging hard on Ingrid’s hair, the pain sharp yet blissful, and Ingrid felt a sharp tug of lust in her addled mind at that.

“My handsome boy. My perfect, handsome boy.” She croaked, tugging softly on her girlfriend’s hair, pulling them up onto the bed. “I love you, my sweet boy. It’s okay, you can talk now.”  
  
“I love you, I love you.” They murmured, desperate into Dorothea’s collarbone.  
  
“And I you, sweet thing. How are you feeling, love?”  
  
“I want you to touch me so badly it hurts, Dot.”  
  
“Oh, my darling. I want to touch you too, but what I really want is to lie you down before me and fuck you, hard and fast. Take your trousers off.” She said, and ruffled Ingrid’s hair once more, tugging on it a little as she stood up.

Ingrid moved faster than they thought possible in the space of a second, they were so unbelievably turned on and desperately needed Dot’s praise, as if it were a drug.

“Oh, Ingrid, my darling. Keep your boxers on, will you? You know how I like you.”  
  
“O- Of course, Dot.”  
  
“You’re being so good tonight, darling,” she said, pulling the leather harness around her hips, the strap-on looking so large, and yet part of Ingrid’s mind knew that it would never be enough to fill them. “For being so good, my darling boy, I won’t tie you up. But do be good, and lie down waiting for me, sweetheart. Or I’ll have to change my mind and punish you.”

Ingrid threw their trousers onto the floor, and was struck by Dorothea, their girlfriend, standing there naked and perfect. They knelt, and stared. They could stare at Dorothea for hours, she was a woman who’d been made with the Goddess’ delicate hands. Her tits were perfect, that was not news to Ingrid, but there was something about her in the dim light and long shadows that made her even more stunning. Her hair was a little ruffled, sticking up and sticking to her forehead in places, and it sent a thrill through Ingrid that they did that to her. And god, watching her adjust and tighten the straps, Dorothea’s cock long and perfect, they felt heat pooling in their crotch. 

Dorothea turned, then, and looked over at Ingrid, kneeling before her, their eyes transfixed on the curves and lines of her body. Her eyes went hard, and Ingrid knew they were in trouble, yet all they could do was kneel there, unmoving.

“Ingrid, my precious boy. You know I demand obedience, don’t you? I don’t expect much from you, and you’ve always performed so well. It just makes it even sadder that you can’t do a simple thing like lie down for me. Look at you, darling, you’re dripping wet and exactly how I asked you to be, but you thought it best to watch me, rather than lie down like I asked. You disobeyed me.”

She strode over towards Ingrid, her bright green eyes brimming with the kind of intensity that made heat spike in Ingrid’s pussy. 

“Lie down. Now.” Her voice was so often gentle, lyrical in nature, yet hearing it laced with iron and steel, so commanding, Ingrid couldn’t resist. They tried, so often and so hard, to assert themselves, yet Ingrid lay down before her. They looked over at Dorothea, and, Goddess, they wanted. 

“You were so, so good for me. But you need punishment, and you know I’m the only one who can give you what you deserve, don’t you?”

“I- I, god, yes, Dot.”  
  
“I’m glad you understand, sweetheart, but you’re going to need to turn onto your front and spread your arms out. Now.” Ingrid did as they were told, and it hurt so deeply to tear their eyes from Dorothea’s tits, all they wanted was those tits in their mouth. But they had to be good, and maybe they could earn Dorothea’s good graces once more. So, they closed their eyes, relaxed, and tried to restrain a whimper as Dorothea strapped their arms up. The stretch was comfortable and familiar, and if Ingrid focused on that sensation, they could ignore the burning desire in their pussy. Dorothea leant in, her brown hair tickling Ingrid’s ear, her nose, and god, she smelled perfect.

“How are you feeling, my darling?” she whispered, running a hand along Ingrid’s back.

“I- I-” Ingrid started, failing to speak her affirmation and her pleasure.

“Colour, my love?”  
  
“Green, god, green.” Ingrid moaned, as Dorothea’s fingers dragged along their pussy.

“Good. Don’t speak another word. I let you speak again and it got to your head, you thought you could do what you wanted.”  
  
Ingrid lay, then, face down, sweat sticking their hair to their face, their senses numbed by the feeling of Dorothea’s hand between their legs. They tried to rub their pussy against Dot’s hand, but even without the luxury of sight, they could tell it was a pathetic act. All it did was cause Dorothea to slap their ass, hard, and Ingrid resisted a moan. Silence, above all else. They’d been doing this for enough time that it didn’t need to be said.

They lay there in silence, and Dorothea began to touch them, and god, even through the fabric of their boxers, Dorothea’s touch was like lightning. They bit the pillow, and clutched desperately onto the ropes binding them to the bed. Every time Dorothea’s hand touched their clit, they lost all control of their body, the lust in their mind took over, banishing all reason. They didn’t speak, didn’t move, even as Dorothea pulled their boxers from them, throwing them somewhere else. 

“Are you ready for me, my darling boy?” Dorothea asked, her voice light and musical again, and Ingrid desperately nodded into the pillow.

They whimpered, softly, as Dorothea’s cock slid into them, pleasure seeping through their whole body as Dorothea started to move behind them. Dorothea’s pace was slow, tantalisingly so, and Ingrid’s mind was already floating amongst the clouds. They were ascending, somewhere, even with the restraints, and the only thing keeping them tied to the earth was the feeling of Dorothea inside of them.

Dorothea was speaking, somewhere above them, and despite loving the sound of her voice, the noise was as clear to her as the sound of the cars driving on the road near Dorothea’s flat, the sound of the tram screeching to a halt nearby. All was lost in the haze of pleasure as Dorothea brought her pace up, her hips slamming into Ingrid hard. Ingrid whimpered and moaned and Dorothea kept up a relentless pace, one hand grabbing Ingrid’s thigh with all the strength it had in it, the other pressing their chest to the bed. 

Ingrid came, hard and fast, and Dorothea could feel it, they knew. Their whine was loud, and needy, and they shuddered around Dorothea’s cock, their arms pulling desperately against the restraints. They moaned, and whimpered louder as Dorothea pulled out of Ingrid. Her cock hadn’t even been inside Ingrid that long, and yet they felt the absence painfully. They whimpered again, and Dorothea rubbed a gentle hand along their back.

“Do you want out, now?”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“Are you okay, my darling?”  
  
“Mmm.”

“I’m going to undo your restraints now, sweetie.”

“Okay,” Ingrid said, finally finding words, their voice strained, and sighed softly as their arms flopped to the bed. 

“Just relax, sweetheart, I love you.”  
  
“Mmm. I’m relaxed, don’t worry. I love you too.”

“You’re my perfect, perfect boy. Just rest up, for a few, and we can go shower when you have your legs back.”

Ingrid collapsed, somehow, burying themself even further into the mattress. They were well fucked, and relaxed, and Dorothea was preparing a shower for the two of them. Perhaps they could go another round when they’d both been woken up by the running water. 


End file.
